Outside the Potions Classroom
by HappilyJaded
Summary: During her 7th year, Hermione had an illicit affair with Snape. Eleven years later, they find they still have unresolved issues...
1. Chapter 1

Outside the Potion's Classroom

Standard disclaimer is in full usage!

This is the unedited version, because I wanted to know what people thought of my sequel/stand alone. The story is halfway completed.

Proudly AU – because I don't feel like writing redemption stories.

Prologue

The year was over. Graduation came and went. Most of the Hogwarts graduates looked to the future with eyes bright and full of hope. The war was over, the good had overcome, and the future was upon them. It seemed like the perfect beginning.

Except for one.

Hermione Granger had passed her NEWTs with record-breaking results. She not only had the highest scores Hogwarts had seen in centuries but also played a pivotal role in the downfall of the Dark Lord himself, alongside her best mates Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. She wore a shiny Order of Merlin, First Class proudly on her graduation robes, just above her Head Girl badge. To all it seemed Hermione had the brightest future of them all.

Yet as the fates would dictate, things were never as perfect as they seemed.

Hermione Granger had been shagging her Potions Professor for the past five months, since the unfortunate incident in which she knocked a powerful aphrodisiac onto them both. At the time, in her hormonally charged state, it seemed the perfect way to savor the delights of an older, more experienced man – especially one in which she was so enamored. Indeed, for the longest time, Hermione had fancied the man. Even though he was nasty and snide and intimidated the weak and hated her friends and called her horrible names and even though the list was...long…she still did.

It may have been doomed from the first moment she hastily snatched his lips within her own, but that did not stop the affair. Even after the aphrodisiac wore off, the affair continued, simply because the desire was there. She couldn't blame the man; when she wanted something, she got it. Being an only child had instilled in her a mighty possessive streak, and a sense of determination that bordered on deadly. Poor Snape could not resist the warmth and enthusiasm of a young, nubile, willing partner, even if she was of an age to be his child. The sex was great. She had what she wanted.

But now school was over, and spelled the end of the affair. He made it clear they were never to see each other again. She accepted his choice. She would have imagined he would find other students to bed in her absence and how we would hope that Dumbledore would not catch wind of these illicit affairs being conducted under his nose. To be quite frank, Hermione had more important things to consider when she graduated than who would be warming Severus Snape's bed.

Like the two month old fetus growing inside her womb.

Tbc….

AN: This is dedicated to Polly (username Dreams on Ashwinder) who was slightly put off by the lack of contraceptives used by Hermione and Snape in "In the Potion's Classroom." (http/adultfan. rated NC-17 for a reason) This sequel to the story (albeit can stand alone if you'd rather not read my one shot, although I would prefer you do, naturally) I hope it lives up to its glory.


	2. Chapter One

Outside the Potion's Classroom

Disclaimed over and over again.

Chapter One

And it begins again. Another year at Hogwarts, another group of simpletons to instruct, and another Sorting Hat song. It was all the same, except for a few minor changes here and there.

Contrary to popular belief, he on occasion found himself enjoying himself in his profession. He enjoyed playing favorites with his Slytherins, he enjoyed watching them plummet the other house Quidditch teams, he enjoyed watching his students' faces crumble when he added yet another six inches to their homework.

Yet he was not such a right bastard that he could deny the tiny flare of pride when he saw that look of realization dawning over a student's face – and knowing he alone was responsible for sharing such information thus unveiling yet another mystery in its own right. Brilliant Potions students were such a rarity he sometimes had to pinch himself to find reality. Of course it had been years since he'd had such a student in his care…

He checked the clock above the classroom door and found the small hand pointing to 'Get to Entrance Hall!' and sighed. He wondered what new students would be in attendance this year. Or, more accurately, what new students he should not allow to handle cauldrons right away.

Like most of the staff at Hogwarts, he did enjoy the sorting. Sometimes, the professors played along, using their own skills of deduction to determine who would get sorted into what house. Minerva was quite good at spotting other lion-hearts, but to the day Dumbledore had everyone beaten. The man did have a reputation of being 'all-knowing' to keep intact, so it was reasonably understandable. Severus would only guess in his head, rather than voice his predictions. It wasn't fair to use legilimency to calculate who would be sorted where anyway.

As he arrived in the Entrance Hall, it was already filled with unfamiliar children being ushered and hushed down by Hagrid, as Dumbledore began his welcome speech. He walked up the staircase to join Minerva, who was glowing despite the constant pursed look she wore. Choosing to remain silent and innocuous, he leaned back against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

The room full of eleven year olds boasted many familiar traits – after teaching for nearly thirty years, he was not surprised to see children of former students anymore. He could see Weasleys in the crowd – no other family line passed down such violent red fair and freckles by choice.

"Costello, Sam!" The Sorting Hat shouted. "Hufflepuff!"

Thirty years of teaching. A very long time for someone who had not intended to teach in the first place. He sighed as he realized that had Voldemort won, he would probably be in no better position than he was now. Mind you, he would probably have freer reign when it came to punishments. Not that he would dare use an Unforgivable on a child, but some NEWT students could have provoked him…

"Hanover, Pamela!"

"Gryffindor!"

More cheering. Minerva was wiping her cheeks. How she could start crying over something like the Sorting was beyond him. Now Minerva was born to teach. She could learn a few things or two on how to maintain class order, but her little Gryffindor cubs adored her without question, and always heeled upon her command. If only she could train them to respect other professors as such…

"Maxwellshire, Thomas!"

"Slytherin!"

He mentally noted that he could probably owl the Maxwellshire family. As pure-blooded Slytherin former students wed. They would more than likely want progress reports on how their son would fair. In recent years the pureblooded students had diminished in quantity and quality. The better students were by far the half-bloods and the odd Muggle-born with unnatural ability. There had been quite a few squibs born as of late, and many Slytherin parents were owling with concerns for their own children's magical ability.

"Salthouse, Katrina!"

"Ravenclaw!"

Finally into the S names. He rubbed his hands together in appreciation. The Sorting had a tendency to deflate…

"Snape, Hadrian!"

What the hell?

Did he hear correctly?

Apparently so. Minerva was staring at him with her mouth open.

He watched transfixed as a small boy from the back pushed through the crowd to the Sorting stool, where he placed the Hat onto of his head of longer than appropriate black curls.

"Ah, half a Gryffindor and half a Slytherin in you! I sense bravery and ambition, but loyalty and diligence above all else…. dare I say your parents will be surprised…Hufflepuff!"

Snape's breath caught. His mind scrambled to gather the facts and his wits. There was a boy with dark fair and pale features with his name being sorted into Hufflepuff. So he did understand clearly the first time.

Severus Snape did the unexpected. He fainted.


	3. Chapter Two

Outside the Potion's Classroom

Disclaimed over and over again. Like a record, baby.

Chapter Two

When he awoke, after being out for several minutes, he found himself staring into the agape expression of Minerva McGonagall. "Did you hear what I heard?" he asked her.

She nodded, her pursed lip look returning to her stern features. "Try to regain your composure Severus, please," she hissed. As she helped him rise he found himself surrounded by owl-eyed students and a perplexed looking Hagrid. Dumbledore was staring at him from his perch by the Sorting Hat and stool, where his eyes were still shining brightly even though the room was dim. Beside him stood the same dark-haired, pale-complexioned boy, staring at him with an especially startled look upon his pallid face. The same boy that was the source of his consternation.

Something had to be amiss in the universe.

Embarrassment flooded through him as he weight of realization hit him. He had just fainted in front of a flock of first years! He had to act quickly before his reputation was tarnished and he would spend the next seven years as the professor who passed out. Oh the speculation of children…

"It appears I am unwell." The words dripped off his sharply wielded tongue in a tone laced with venom. "Seeing as gawking like dunderheads is hardly beneficial to my…state…I advice you all to return to what you were doing as you can obviously be of no help. Professor Dumbledore," he said, managing to focus on the one he knew would have answers. "Perhaps you could assist me?"

Dumbledore smiled softly. "Certainly Professor Snape. Retire to my office and I shall join you once the Sorting had concluded. Professor McGonagall, would you be so kind as to assist Professor Snape to my office, just in case?"

"Come, Professor," Minerva grabbed his arm and lead him back up the stairs. He shrugged her off the moment they were out of student's view and earshot.

"Lay off, woman!" he hissed, smoothing out the creases she caused in his black robes.

"Honestly, Severus. You do have a flare for the dramatic. Indeed it is a shock to discover–"

"No!" Severus insisted. "You do not understand. Go back to your cubs, Minerva. I need a moment to think without the incessant nagging of your voice in my head!"

She raised an eyebrow and turned abruptly, leaving him in a huff. Just as well, he would end up having to deal with her later anyway – Minerva never knew when to mind her own business. It never helped that Albus would tell her everything anyway, so maybe she felt she had a right to interfere.

He was pacing when Dumbledore finally entered his office. Severus wasted no time rushing up to the man with an entourage of questions.

"What is going on here? Who was that boy? Why does he have my name? How could someone with my name be in Hufflepuff?"

Dumbledore, in all his gentle wisdom, raised a slender, wrinkled hand to silence the much younger wizard. "Please sit down, Severus, and have a lemon drop."

"Fuck you and your lemon drops, you old geezer!" He cursed his employer. "Don't tell me to calm down when not only is there an first year with my name but I fucking fainted in front of him and the rest of the students! How am I going to live this down!" He threw himself into the overstuffed leather chair by the hearth and threw his face into his hands. "Is it to early to start drinking?"

Obviously ignoring his subordinate's vulgarity, Dumbledore smiled gently and rested the wrinkled hand upon the edge of the seat. "I shall explain to the best of my ability, Severus, but you must calm yourself and please try to keep an open mind."

"So you basically know everything but will reveal nothing. Say no more – I don't wish to hear any riddles or cryptic languages. Spit it out!" Severus jumped up from the seat with such vigor that had Dumbledore's hand not been resting on the back, it would have flipped over.

"You did hear correctly. Hadrian Snape is the boy's name, and he is in Hufflepuff."

"How is it that he has come to possess my name? I am the last Snape in over seven generations. Snape men only ever father one son then go sterile – it has been the fate of our house since before Hogwarts. So what conniving witch decided to steal my name and give it to her offspring? Tell me her name so I can hex her lying tongue back into her skull," he raised his eyes to the ceiling, as if promising the gods.

"His mother is Hermione Granger."

Severus's face paled, more so as the synapses in his mind began to connect the information. Granger. Hadrian. First-year. Eleven years old. Twelve years ago. Suddenly the pieces became a very clear puzzle.

"Shit."

"Quite." Dumbledore handed him a cup of tea. He must have summoned the house-elves.

"What does she want?" Severus's eyes immediately narrowed.

"Nothing, actually. She gave her son the name of his father after he asked who you were at age five, I believe. A very bright young man, much like you were at his age, and like his mother as well. It is obvious that intelligence runs in the family. "

Severus sat down again and set down the tea. His hands were trembling – he fisted them to hide it. "Why…did she not tell me this?"

"I sure she didn't want you to feel obligated – she is a very determined, very stubborn woman. But have no fear; the boy was very well raised. He had a very good home and lots of love and nurturing. He has a mother who loves him very much and very doting uncles and aunts."

Potter and Weasley, he meant, and Severus cursed aloud. Those dunderheads knew about his child before he did. There would be hell to pay. Oh, she would pay for this – even if he had to hex her to Hades to get his retribution.

"Now before you believe yourself truly wronged, Severus, might I ask how it is that Hermione Granger had your child seven months after graduation?"

That could have made many a man's blood run cold, and for all his articulations and skill for chastising even the chastest – he suddenly understood what the expression 'deer caught in headlights' meant.

Tbc.

Thanks again for the intellectual feeding! Always R&R!


	4. Chapter Three

Outside the Potion's Classroom

Disclaimed over and over again. Like a record, baby.

AN: a long(er) chapter, so I hope it was worth the wait.

Chapter Three

After being very thoroughly chastened by the Headmaster on the expectations of a professional student/teacher relationship (what it entails and what it does not), being put on probation and sentenced to six weeks of double shifts on patrol, a budget cut in less-than essential ingredients and now having to sit through all NEWT detentions, Severus Snape felt slightly worse for the wear. Why didn't the man cut off his right hand while he restricted and snatched away his liberties? The loss of potions ingredients was perhaps the hardest to bear. Now he had to fund his potions research out of his own pocket, something that would hurt his savings greatly.

The shining moment, his most Slytherin victory, was when Dumbledore admitted that he had over-extended Severus to the point of breakage for almost twenty years, and that given the circumstance, he could see 'how' it 'happened'. While he didn't fire him because of pity, Severus knew it was triumph nevertheless. Severus was nothing if not an opportunist – and frankly – he already knew what would happen to him if he were fired from Hogwarts. With nothing to do and no paths for him to cross, he figured he would end up turning to the drink, much as his own father did to his chagrin as a child, and it would kill him. It would have only taken months, but he would have ended up killing himself. Dumbledore saved his life again.

So maybe he valued it more than he let on.

Maybe.

So after digesting as much information as he could from the Headmaster, a few glasses of Ogdens (or, more aptly known as 'liquid courage') and deducting a few unsuspecting Gryffindors some house points, he felt reasonably equipped to visit Granger. He had decided it was best to refer to her as such – not Miss Granger, reminding him of giving her detention on her knees – and definitely not Hermione, for whom he had kissed with such wild abandon that even years later he had to admit the memory still made him weak in the knees.

How had the downward spiral begun? It started long before the potion's accident. He used to catch her staring at him with the most unusual expression upon her features; not abhorrence, like most students, or pity, like most colleagues, but a startling combination of approbation and marvel, like he was a riddle just waiting to be solved. He was not used to intelligent, attractive, sincere (albeit proud, stubborn and demanding) young women seeing him is such a light. It was flattering, in a way.

Then came the "incident." The silly chit had purposely spilled an aphrodisiac all over them both. If he had not been acutely aware of her hormones before, oh, he knew now. Not that he could even think for the first few days. He was so deeply in lust he could barely sleep or eat – rabbit's blood had that kind of effect on a grown male. Granted, he should have thrown her out on her ear, Apparated to Knockturn Alley and locked himself and a prostitute in a cheap hotel room - granted, he should have confessed to Dumbledore and had the older wizard deal with the situation - granted yet again, he should have steeled himself as he had a habit of doing and brewed a remedy to their induced desires – but he did none of these things. He had buried himself in her, taking her with all the desires he had suppressed during years of forced celibacy.

But he found he had few regrets when it came to the affair. Herm…. Granger was as demanding and honest in real life as she was in the bedroom, taking in all the information she could, vocalizing what she liked and what she did not. It was rather breathtaking to have a willing and nubile female order him to go down on her in between classes. It was exhilarating to have a secret love that he was supposed to hate. It was liberating to have sex with a student right under Dumbledore's nose all over the school grounds.

It had been years since he'd enjoyed himself so thoroughly. That statement was as true today as it had been before their affair ended.

So the affair had dissolved when she left Hogwarts. She was full of plans with a very bright future ahead of her; a future that did not include him. He admittedly was disappointed to end the affair, but he had his own problems to deal with. Neither of them were ready to pursue anything that required so much commitment outside a fuck and little post-coital chatting, or so he'd thought.

She had been pregnant and felt it pertinent not to reveal this information to him. He could understand some rational behind it, they were only fucking. He probably would have cursed her at the time or sent her to have the problem terminated. He still didn't know if he liked the idea of himself as a father. His own father had been an abysmal failure and his mother wasn't much better – so he hated to think of the emotional baggage he could put upon a child in light of his own horrible upbringing.

But he still should have had the option. Damn her self-righteousness. She said she was taking the potion, so was it up to him to remember the contraceptive charm all the damn time? He couldn't even remember the details properly anymore. It had been over a decade ago.

Yet eleven years had produced Hadrian Snape. A boy who he had seen for maybe a moment and already felt he owed a wizard's debt. A boy made of his seed, with his name and his features. He seemed to have inherited Hermione's curls, and somewhere inherited a dutiful sense of being hardworking. Lord, he could have consumed a bottle of Firewhisky when he remembered where his son was sorted. Hufflepuff – oh really! That stupid hat must have been pissed or was going senile or had eaten one to many of Dumbledore's sweets. It was definitely way off its rocker - that was for certain. Every generation of Snape males had been sorted into Slytherin. Every single generation since that stupid curse came upon them. He could imagine his father rolling around in his coffin – if he had one to roll in, that is.

So, first on his list was visiting Granger. Find out what the fuck she was thinking and why she would think such foolishness. He felt it important to speak with her first before he dared speak to the miniature Snape.

His second was to make sure the child was adequately comfortable. He was the next Snape heir after all, and arrangements had to be made. He would have to rewrite his will, change some names upon his holdings, and then tell his mother.

Merlin, he could just imagine that visit. She was confined to the Elder ward at St. Mungos. He usually visited her on her birthday and at Christmas, bringing her favorite things, like books and chocolates. She was confined to a wheelchair and was now blind. She had never been very attentive – she was the picture perfect pureblood mother after all. Usually on his visit they talked about politics and why the mudbloods and muggle-lovers were trying to run the country. While he didn't agree with her ignorant and archaic beliefs, he still felt it was his responsibility to play dutiful son and listen to her tirades. It was usually the end of the visit when she began to harp on him for not being a loyal Death Eater or for only being a teacher. She also thought Potions were a waste of time. Needless to say, the visit would not be painless, but thankfully, it would be brief.

The third and last item on his list was actually speaking to the boy in question. No doubt they would meet in the classroom, but he had to know what the boy was like, what he should expect beforehand. The best offense was a good defense. This was last on his list because it would prove the most difficult. He was more confident facing Granger and his mother and Dumbledore and the Dark Lord himself altogether at high noon in a Wild West showdown than face this child.

He was terrified. He was truly scared of the boy for reasons he couldn't explain, let alone admit aloud. The irony of it wasn't lost on him, that of all the horrible acts he had seen and committed, the fear of heaven and hell would be put upon his persons by an eleven year old who probably still needed a candle by his bed every night.

Maybe he was going soft in his old age.

Maybe not.

'Maybe' seemed to be the word of the day. And he usually hated uncertainty.

Now he had to face his fears, as was his usual resolve. He smoothed out his dark robes and steeled his nerves as he stood on the front step of Granger's home in North London that evening. It was a rather charming house, small but with a well-kept yard filled with herbs and flowers. There was even a welcome mat and a wreath of lavender and forget-me-nots above the knocker. He raised his hand only to have the door swing open – and there she stood, bathed in light.

She was even more attractive. Her unruly hair was pulled back from her face, revealing the curve of her neck and stubborn jaw. Her eyes still shone like brilliant amber, her mouth was still as lush and full. She was dressed in muggle clothing, an oxford shirt and plain brown trousers, but he didn't mind as he could appreciate her form in them. She was somehow slimmer than before – by her coloring he guessed she was still working as hard as ever, ignoring even the most basic human needs to complete tasks and assignments. She looked like Hermione all grown up. Still an enchantress.

"Well, are you going to gawk at me all night or come in? Dumbledore flooed at lunchtime. What took you so long?"

As she ushered him in he couldn't help but wonder if maybe he should have seen his mother first after all. Something told him this trip down memory lane would not be very pleasant at all.

Tbc…

Thanks for reviewing everyone! I really appreciate the feedback. While I definitely don't believe in holding chapters up for ransom for reviews, I must say they have hastened the progress. So really, hugs to all of you who take the time to tell me what you thought, good OR bad.

Also, this is unbeta-ed, but I'm excited, so I'll be posting anyway.


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